Original Meaning
Praise the Name of the Lord (113:1–3)
THE PSALMIST OPENS WITH AN EXTENDED CALL for the servants of the Lord to praise him. Poetically, this call to praise is reinforced through the repetition of language and imagery.
Praise the LORD. As noted above, verse 1a calls for the people to praise the Lord (halelu yah). Following this initial exhortation, the psalmist extends his invitation by using the verb “to praise” (halal) three more times in the first three verses (vv. 1b, 1c, 3b). The theme of praising God appears as well in verse 2a, with the psalmist opting for the verb “to bless” (barak), a term that can mean bless in the sense of worship or honor.1
The Name of the LORD. In addition to the threefold call to praise God, there is a threefold mention of the name of the Lord (vv. 1c, 2a, 3b). The focus on the name of God in verses 1–3 functions in tandem with the claim in verses 4–6 that Yahweh is the exalted one who is “enthroned on high.” In such instances, the phrase “the name of the LORD” functions as a cipher for the real and felt presence of God.2
Although God is enthroned in the heavens as the cosmic King, Israel’s God was present with and accessible to his people because his name dwelled among them. Earlier psalms also connect the name of the Lord with the certainty of his presence. In Psalm 75:1, for example, the psalmist declares, “We praise you, God, we praise you, for your Name is near.”3
Using both temporal and spatial imagery, the writer of Psalm 113 highlights the durative nature of the praise of the Lord. In verse 2b he states that such praise should continue “both now and forevermore.” The phrase suggests the “limitless continuity of God’s praise,” a dominant theme throughout the remainder of the Psalter.4
The psalmist couples this call for unceasing praise with a call for universal praise of God. The phrase “from the rising of the sun to the place where it sets” may at first appear to be a temporal reference—“from sun up until sun down”—yet upon further investigation the spatial dimension is clearly in view. The emphasis is not on time but location—the praise of the Lord’s name should extend from one horizon to the other. Similar usage of the same phrase also appears in Psalm 50:1, where the psalmist declares,
The Mighty One, God, the LORD,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to where it sets.
The final line, “from the rising of the sun to where it sets,” modifies “earth” and thereby clarifies the expansive rule of the Mighty One. The psalmist concludes the first section of Psalm 113 with a similar call. The praise of the Lord’s name should fill the entire earth, from horizon to horizon.
Bridging Contexts
STANDING AT THE CENTER of Psalm 113 is verse 5. Nine poetic lines appear before verse 5 and nine appear after it. In that verse the psalmist queries, “Who is like the LORD our God, the One who sits enthroned on high?” One could argue that the remainder of the psalm is a reflection of and response to that question. Taken as a whole, the psalm does more than offer a negative response to the question (i.e., “no one is like our God”)—it actually creates a justification for such a claim based on who God is and what he does.
The transcendence and immanence of God. Given the destruction of Jerusalem by Babylon, the subsequent exile, and even the rather bleak circumstances that greeted the people of God when they returned home, one might not blame a psalmist had he tamped down his cosmic claims about the universal rule of God. After all, in the ancient Near East, military success and the well-being of a nation were often associated with the might of a national deity. Given the structure of such a worldview and given Israel’s recent demise, there were potential grounds for calling into question the faithfulness of Yahweh, much less, Yahweh’s might. Yet difficulties not withstanding, the psalmist presses forward with a radical confession of the incommensurability of Israel’s God: “Who is like our God?” The implied answer is clear: there is none.
The psalmist emphasizes the incommensurability of God by acknowledging that Israel’s God is no regional deity—he is not confined to regional worship centers, nor is his identity fashioned by the success or failure of his people; rather, this God, Israel’s God, is in fact exalted over the nations and enthroned above the heavens as the Divine King on high. Psalm 113 is not unique in this claim. Despite the exile and the potential implosion of Israel’s theological worldview, numerous texts from the exilic period and beyond posed a similar rhetorical question or made an affirmation of the same: there is no god like Yahweh. Frequently these confessions acknowledge Yahweh’s place in the heavens, or even above the heavens, as a means of signaling the sui generis character of Israel’s God.8
In Isaiah 44:7, for example, the prophet places this question on the lips of God: “Who then is like me?” The presumed rhetorical question is followed up by a series of direct responses, including “there is no other Rock” (v. 8) and “there is no other god” (Isa 45:14; see also Isa 45:18, 21; 22). How can the prophet make such a claim given the destruction of Jerusalem and the reailty of exile? Earlier, in Isaiah 40:22–23, the prophet declares that
[Yahweh] sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in.
He brings princes to naught
and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.
God sits above the earth and the heavens as the enthroned king. The prophet attempts to capture the spatial distance by suggesting that the people appear as mere grasshoppers when viewed from God’s throne above the heavens. Such language suggests that God is utterly transcendent—so high, in fact, that he must stoop down to look upon the earth and the heavens (v. 6). Yet the image of a transcendent God as presented in Isaiah and Psalm 113 does not suggest a God utterly removed from the affairs of the world but a God who stands over all creation as its king, incapable of being thwarted by the machinations of the world. The enthroned king cannot be unseated.
This image of a fully transcendent God in Psalm 113, however, is juxtaposed with the image of a God who remains utterly involved in the lives of his people. As suggested above, the mention of God’s name in the opening strophe (three times) suggests something of the immanence of the Divine King. In Solomon’s prayer of dedication in 1 Kings 8, Solomon prays,
LORD, the God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth below. . . . But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built [vv. 23, 27].
Immediately after this acknowledgment of the exalted nature of Israel’s God, Solomon pleads with God and makes explicit reference to the nearness of God.
Hear the cry and the prayer that your servant is praying in your presence this day. May your eyes be opened toward this temple night and day, this place which you have said, “My Name shall be there,” so that you will hear the prayer your servant prays towards this place [vv. 28–29].
The sense of God’s presence is coupled with the traditional claim that Yahweh’s name is to dwell in the temple. In 1 Kings 8 Solomon holds in tandem the transcendent nature of Israel’s God while simultaneously acknowledging the presence of God in the place where his name dwells. Similarly to the claims in 1 Kings 8, Psalm 113 suggests that the distance of God in no way precludes the nearness of God, and equally, the nearness of God in no way precludes his divine kingship. Although the two notions stand in considerable tension, it is precisely this inexplicable set of claims that justifies Israel’s belief that their God, Yahweh, is like no other; he is the one who stands over all creation yet remains capable of intervening in the lives of his people.
Theology of poor. Because Israel’s God is the God who stands over all creation yet is fully present with his people, the psalmist can claim that this God intervenes in the lives of individuals. In Psalm 111 the psalmist references the works of God and, in particular in the first half of the psalm, alludes to the events surrounding the exodus. Immediately following Psalm 113, Psalm 114 makes explicit reference to the events of the exodus. In both instances the nation as a whole is in view as God demonstrates his faithfulness to his people through their deliverance. Psalm 113, however, shifts from a national or corporate identity and narrows the scope to focus on the poor (dal), the needy (’ebyon), and the barren. Although such language could be applied to the nation as a whole, Psalm 113 seems bent on praising God for his “transformative interventions in the lives of the powerless.”9
The juxtaposition of transcendence and immanence could be not starker: the enthroned God on high is intervening in the individual lives of those relegated to the ash heap.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 113 CALLS THE FAITHFUL to praise God, and through this call to praise the psalm constructs a picture of God—or more precisely, through the images and language in Psalm 113 a more robust theological vision of God emerges. This picture, or vision, is one that resonates across Scripture but does not always comport with contemporary constructions of God.
The Institute for the Study of Religion at Baylor University conducted a comprehensive study titled “American Piety in the 21st Century: New Insights to the Depth and Complexity of Religion in the United States.”10
Based on the participants’ responses to a series of questions, the researchers identified four “models” of God that seemed most prevalent in the United States. The first model is that of the Authoritarian God. Those who held to this model believed that God is highly involved in their daily lives and world affairs. They also tended to believe that God is quite angry and capable of meting out punishment. In the second model, the Benevolent God, individuals also believed that God was very active in their daily lives but is less angry and, instead, is a positive influence in the world. With the third model, the Critical God, individuals contended that God does not really interact with the world at all. While God may see the world and even have an unfavorable opinion of the world, any judgment or divine response will be meted out in the next life. In the last model, the Distant God, individuals contended that God is not active in the world but instead functions more as a “cosmic force which set the laws of nature in motion. As such, God does not ‘do’ things in the world and does not hold clear opinions about our activities or world events.”11
The four models or images of God that emerged from the study reflect considerable diversity of opinion about God and God’s way in and with the world. The first two models stress the nearness of God in human life, while the latter two models place emphasis on the distance of God. While these models reflect a commitment to the immanence and transcendence of God, each model emphasizes one element over the other.
Psalm 113, however, invites us to reflect on a God who seemingly defies any of these models. This psalm reminds us that a biblically grounded and theologically informed view of God asks us to hold both models in tension—the kind of tension that yields praise, not consternation. How do we not break out in unfettered praise when we consider that our God is enthroned on high as the Divine King? Yet how can we not be humbled deeply by a God who lifts people from the ash heap and creates life from barrenness? The capacity of this God, our God, to move from the highest realms of the heavens to the lowest rungs of earth is stunning. Perhaps that is why the early church forged another psalm, a confession that bore witness to a God who moved in such ways in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Although he became a slave (doulos), “obedient to death even death on a cross,”
God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the father. (Phil 2:9–11)
This God is to be praised “from the rising of the sun to the place where it sets” (Ps 113:3) and “in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (Phil 2:10). Although he reigns on high, he has come among us. Praise the Lord—hallelujah.
Original Meaning
The Lord is Exalted (113:4–6)
WHILE THE CALL FOR THE PRAISE of God to extend from horizon to horizon (v. 3) serves as a fitting conclusion to the opening strophe of the psalm, the verse also functions as a transition to the second strophe in the poem and the spatial imagery that dominates in that section. All three verses point to Yahweh as the exalted Lord who reigns on high.
The psalmist makes three claims about God in this strophe: he is exalted over the nations, his glory is above the heavens, and he is enthroned on high. Each spatial statement builds on the previous one, thus providing additional theological depth to Israel’s confession about her God. In verse 4a Yahweh is acknowledged as exalted over the nations, so suggesting his reign as Divine King over all other earthly rulers and powers.5
In the second claim the psalmist extends Yahweh’s rule to “above the heavens,” thus securing Yahweh’s position as Divine King over earth and heaven. The final claim makes clear what has been suggested in the two previous claims: Yahweh occupies his rightful place as the Divine King who is enthroned on high.
As divine king, Yahweh stoops down to look over the heavens and the earth. Whereas some psalms that appear earlier in the Psalter (Books 1–3) employ the same image (i.e., the enthroned Yahweh looking down from the heavens), the imagery in those psalms has a much more foreboding sense implying that this divine glance is reserved primarily for the testing of the people of God (Pss 11:4; 14:2; 17:2–3). In Psalm 113, however, the motive appears altogether different. In this instance, Yahweh’s enthronement above the heavens reinforces his supremacy over all powers, both earthly and heavenly (v. 6b). Yet Yahweh’s exaltation above the heavens does not suggest the hiddenness of God, or, worse yet, abandonment by God. To the contrary, his location above the heavens ensures the faithfulness of God and his capacity to deliver.6
Verse 6a holds in tension the immanence and transcendence of God; God is exalted above the heavens yet cognizant of his people as he “stoops down to look.”
Bridging Contexts
STANDING AT THE CENTER of Psalm 113 is verse 5. Nine poetic lines appear before verse 5 and nine appear after it. In that verse the psalmist queries, “Who is like the LORD our God, the One who sits enthroned on high?” One could argue that the remainder of the psalm is a reflection of and response to that question. Taken as a whole, the psalm does more than offer a negative response to the question (i.e., “no one is like our God”)—it actually creates a justification for such a claim based on who God is and what he does.
The transcendence and immanence of God. Given the destruction of Jerusalem by Babylon, the subsequent exile, and even the rather bleak circumstances that greeted the people of God when they returned home, one might not blame a psalmist had he tamped down his cosmic claims about the universal rule of God. After all, in the ancient Near East, military success and the well-being of a nation were often associated with the might of a national deity. Given the structure of such a worldview and given Israel’s recent demise, there were potential grounds for calling into question the faithfulness of Yahweh, much less, Yahweh’s might. Yet difficulties not withstanding, the psalmist presses forward with a radical confession of the incommensurability of Israel’s God: “Who is like our God?” The implied answer is clear: there is none.
The psalmist emphasizes the incommensurability of God by acknowledging that Israel’s God is no regional deity—he is not confined to regional worship centers, nor is his identity fashioned by the success or failure of his people; rather, this God, Israel’s God, is in fact exalted over the nations and enthroned above the heavens as the Divine King on high. Psalm 113 is not unique in this claim. Despite the exile and the potential implosion of Israel’s theological worldview, numerous texts from the exilic period and beyond posed a similar rhetorical question or made an affirmation of the same: there is no god like Yahweh. Frequently these confessions acknowledge Yahweh’s place in the heavens, or even above the heavens, as a means of signaling the sui generis character of Israel’s God.8
In Isaiah 44:7, for example, the prophet places this question on the lips of God: “Who then is like me?” The presumed rhetorical question is followed up by a series of direct responses, including “there is no other Rock” (v. 8) and “there is no other god” (Isa 45:14; see also Isa 45:18, 21; 22). How can the prophet make such a claim given the destruction of Jerusalem and the reailty of exile? Earlier, in Isaiah 40:22–23, the prophet declares that
[Yahweh] sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in.
He brings princes to naught
and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.
God sits above the earth and the heavens as the enthroned king. The prophet attempts to capture the spatial distance by suggesting that the people appear as mere grasshoppers when viewed from God’s throne above the heavens. Such language suggests that God is utterly transcendent—so high, in fact, that he must stoop down to look upon the earth and the heavens (v. 6). Yet the image of a transcendent God as presented in Isaiah and Psalm 113 does not suggest a God utterly removed from the affairs of the world but a God who stands over all creation as its king, incapable of being thwarted by the machinations of the world. The enthroned king cannot be unseated.
This image of a fully transcendent God in Psalm 113, however, is juxtaposed with the image of a God who remains utterly involved in the lives of his people. As suggested above, the mention of God’s name in the opening strophe (three times) suggests something of the immanence of the Divine King. In Solomon’s prayer of dedication in 1 Kings 8, Solomon prays,
LORD, the God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth below. . . . But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built [vv. 23, 27].
Immediately after this acknowledgment of the exalted nature of Israel’s God, Solomon pleads with God and makes explicit reference to the nearness of God.
Hear the cry and the prayer that your servant is praying in your presence this day. May your eyes be opened toward this temple night and day, this place which you have said, “My Name shall be there,” so that you will hear the prayer your servant prays towards this place [vv. 28–29].
The sense of God’s presence is coupled with the traditional claim that Yahweh’s name is to dwell in the temple. In 1 Kings 8 Solomon holds in tandem the transcendent nature of Israel’s God while simultaneously acknowledging the presence of God in the place where his name dwells. Similarly to the claims in 1 Kings 8, Psalm 113 suggests that the distance of God in no way precludes the nearness of God, and equally, the nearness of God in no way precludes his divine kingship. Although the two notions stand in considerable tension, it is precisely this inexplicable set of claims that justifies Israel’s belief that their God, Yahweh, is like no other; he is the one who stands over all creation yet remains capable of intervening in the lives of his people.
Theology of poor. Because Israel’s God is the God who stands over all creation yet is fully present with his people, the psalmist can claim that this God intervenes in the lives of individuals. In Psalm 111 the psalmist references the works of God and, in particular in the first half of the psalm, alludes to the events surrounding the exodus. Immediately following Psalm 113, Psalm 114 makes explicit reference to the events of the exodus. In both instances the nation as a whole is in view as God demonstrates his faithfulness to his people through their deliverance. Psalm 113, however, shifts from a national or corporate identity and narrows the scope to focus on the poor (dal), the needy (’ebyon), and the barren. Although such language could be applied to the nation as a whole, Psalm 113 seems bent on praising God for his “transformative interventions in the lives of the powerless.”9
The juxtaposition of transcendence and immanence could be not starker: the enthroned God on high is intervening in the individual lives of those relegated to the ash heap.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 113 CALLS THE FAITHFUL to praise God, and through this call to praise the psalm constructs a picture of God—or more precisely, through the images and language in Psalm 113 a more robust theological vision of God emerges. This picture, or vision, is one that resonates across Scripture but does not always comport with contemporary constructions of God.
The Institute for the Study of Religion at Baylor University conducted a comprehensive study titled “American Piety in the 21st Century: New Insights to the Depth and Complexity of Religion in the United States.”10
Based on the participants’ responses to a series of questions, the researchers identified four “models” of God that seemed most prevalent in the United States. The first model is that of the Authoritarian God. Those who held to this model believed that God is highly involved in their daily lives and world affairs. They also tended to believe that God is quite angry and capable of meting out punishment. In the second model, the Benevolent God, individuals also believed that God was very active in their daily lives but is less angry and, instead, is a positive influence in the world. With the third model, the Critical God, individuals contended that God does not really interact with the world at all. While God may see the world and even have an unfavorable opinion of the world, any judgment or divine response will be meted out in the next life. In the last model, the Distant God, individuals contended that God is not active in the world but instead functions more as a “cosmic force which set the laws of nature in motion. As such, God does not ‘do’ things in the world and does not hold clear opinions about our activities or world events.”11
The four models or images of God that emerged from the study reflect considerable diversity of opinion about God and God’s way in and with the world. The first two models stress the nearness of God in human life, while the latter two models place emphasis on the distance of God. While these models reflect a commitment to the immanence and transcendence of God, each model emphasizes one element over the other.
Psalm 113, however, invites us to reflect on a God who seemingly defies any of these models. This psalm reminds us that a biblically grounded and theologically informed view of God asks us to hold both models in tension—the kind of tension that yields praise, not consternation. How do we not break out in unfettered praise when we consider that our God is enthroned on high as the Divine King? Yet how can we not be humbled deeply by a God who lifts people from the ash heap and creates life from barrenness? The capacity of this God, our God, to move from the highest realms of the heavens to the lowest rungs of earth is stunning. Perhaps that is why the early church forged another psalm, a confession that bore witness to a God who moved in such ways in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Although he became a slave (doulos), “obedient to death even death on a cross,”
God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the father. (Phil 2:9–11)
This God is to be praised “from the rising of the sun to the place where it sets” (Ps 113:3) and “in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (Phil 2:10). Although he reigns on high, he has come among us. Praise the Lord—hallelujah.
Original Meaning
The Lord Delivers the Weak (113:7–9)
THE CLAIMS OF RADICAL TRANSCENDENCE in verses 4–6 are met with claims of radical immanence in verses 7–9. Yahweh is worthy of Israel’s praise because he is in fact the Divine King enthroned on high, but also because he is the Divine King who acts as a king by delivering the most vulnerable.
He raises the poor. The psalmist proclaims that the Divine King will raise up the “poor” (dal). There are many terms for the “poor” in the Psalter, and each term has a degree of elasticity to it based upon its context.7
Of all the terms for the poor, dal remains the most consistent in meaning both in the Psalter and across the Old Testament. The term connotes economic deprivation; the dal have no financial and economic resources and consequently are subject to exploitation and oppression. The dal have no capacity to deliver themselves; their survival is contingent upon Yahweh’s faithfulness to raise them up.
The second half of verse 7 employs a second term from the “poor” wordfield: ’ebyon. Frequently this term is translated as “needy” and suggests those who live a meager, subsistent existence. The fact that the ’ebyon have been relegated to the ash heap (ashpot) suggests acute material poverty and, even further, acute social ostracism. Like the dal, the hope of the ’ebyon rests entirely with the work of God.
The wordplay between verses 4a and 7a is lost in the English translation, which is unfortunate because it highlights the theological strand that connects the second and third strophes. Both verses contain the verb “to raise up” or “to be exalted” (rum). In the first instance (v. 4a), it is God who is raised up or exalted; in the second, the poor and needy are raised up. The implication is clear: the one who is raised up (v. 4a) is the only one who can raise up the poor (v. 7a). Not only will he raise them up, but he will also sit them with the princes of his people. Because of the work of God, the poor have moved from the margins of society into the very heart of the community. God’s position as the exalted one gives hope to those awaiting their deliverance, those waiting to be lifted up out of the dust and the ash heap.
He settles the childless woman. The psalmist concludes the third strophe by declaring that God will make the childless woman the joyous mother of many children (v. 9). In the ancient world, barrenness created a social stigma for women, one that marginalized such women and prevented them from enjoying the benefits of participation in the community. Despite that stark reality, the psalmist asserts that there is hope with Yahweh. The text reads literally, “he causes the barren woman of the family to dwell [yashab] as a joyous mother of children.” Similar to the wordplay with rum mentioned above, yashab (“to sit”) creates another wordplay between the second and third strophes. In verse 5 Yahweh “sits” (yashab) on high. The God who “sits” (yashab) on high is in fact the only one who can make a place for the barren women to dwell or sit (yashab) in a house surrounded by children.
Praise the LORD. The psalm closes where it began, namely, by calling people to praise God. Having confessed that God sits enthroned in the heavens as the Divine King, and having confessed that God will deliver the poor and oppressed, the community can do no other than praise God.
Bridging Contexts
STANDING AT THE CENTER of Psalm 113 is verse 5. Nine poetic lines appear before verse 5 and nine appear after it. In that verse the psalmist queries, “Who is like the LORD our God, the One who sits enthroned on high?” One could argue that the remainder of the psalm is a reflection of and response to that question. Taken as a whole, the psalm does more than offer a negative response to the question (i.e., “no one is like our God”)—it actually creates a justification for such a claim based on who God is and what he does.
The transcendence and immanence of God. Given the destruction of Jerusalem by Babylon, the subsequent exile, and even the rather bleak circumstances that greeted the people of God when they returned home, one might not blame a psalmist had he tamped down his cosmic claims about the universal rule of God. After all, in the ancient Near East, military success and the well-being of a nation were often associated with the might of a national deity. Given the structure of such a worldview and given Israel’s recent demise, there were potential grounds for calling into question the faithfulness of Yahweh, much less, Yahweh’s might. Yet difficulties not withstanding, the psalmist presses forward with a radical confession of the incommensurability of Israel’s God: “Who is like our God?” The implied answer is clear: there is none.
The psalmist emphasizes the incommensurability of God by acknowledging that Israel’s God is no regional deity—he is not confined to regional worship centers, nor is his identity fashioned by the success or failure of his people; rather, this God, Israel’s God, is in fact exalted over the nations and enthroned above the heavens as the Divine King on high. Psalm 113 is not unique in this claim. Despite the exile and the potential implosion of Israel’s theological worldview, numerous texts from the exilic period and beyond posed a similar rhetorical question or made an affirmation of the same: there is no god like Yahweh. Frequently these confessions acknowledge Yahweh’s place in the heavens, or even above the heavens, as a means of signaling the sui generis character of Israel’s God.8
In Isaiah 44:7, for example, the prophet places this question on the lips of God: “Who then is like me?” The presumed rhetorical question is followed up by a series of direct responses, including “there is no other Rock” (v. 8) and “there is no other god” (Isa 45:14; see also Isa 45:18, 21; 22). How can the prophet make such a claim given the destruction of Jerusalem and the reailty of exile? Earlier, in Isaiah 40:22–23, the prophet declares that
[Yahweh] sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in.
He brings princes to naught
and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing.
God sits above the earth and the heavens as the enthroned king. The prophet attempts to capture the spatial distance by suggesting that the people appear as mere grasshoppers when viewed from God’s throne above the heavens. Such language suggests that God is utterly transcendent—so high, in fact, that he must stoop down to look upon the earth and the heavens (v. 6). Yet the image of a transcendent God as presented in Isaiah and Psalm 113 does not suggest a God utterly removed from the affairs of the world but a God who stands over all creation as its king, incapable of being thwarted by the machinations of the world. The enthroned king cannot be unseated.
This image of a fully transcendent God in Psalm 113, however, is juxtaposed with the image of a God who remains utterly involved in the lives of his people. As suggested above, the mention of God’s name in the opening strophe (three times) suggests something of the immanence of the Divine King. In Solomon’s prayer of dedication in 1 Kings 8, Solomon prays,
LORD, the God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth below. . . . But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built [vv. 23, 27].
Immediately after this acknowledgment of the exalted nature of Israel’s God, Solomon pleads with God and makes explicit reference to the nearness of God.
Hear the cry and the prayer that your servant is praying in your presence this day. May your eyes be opened toward this temple night and day, this place which you have said, “My Name shall be there,” so that you will hear the prayer your servant prays towards this place [vv. 28–29].
The sense of God’s presence is coupled with the traditional claim that Yahweh’s name is to dwell in the temple. In 1 Kings 8 Solomon holds in tandem the transcendent nature of Israel’s God while simultaneously acknowledging the presence of God in the place where his name dwells. Similarly to the claims in 1 Kings 8, Psalm 113 suggests that the distance of God in no way precludes the nearness of God, and equally, the nearness of God in no way precludes his divine kingship. Although the two notions stand in considerable tension, it is precisely this inexplicable set of claims that justifies Israel’s belief that their God, Yahweh, is like no other; he is the one who stands over all creation yet remains capable of intervening in the lives of his people.
Theology of poor. Because Israel’s God is the God who stands over all creation yet is fully present with his people, the psalmist can claim that this God intervenes in the lives of individuals. In Psalm 111 the psalmist references the works of God and, in particular in the first half of the psalm, alludes to the events surrounding the exodus. Immediately following Psalm 113, Psalm 114 makes explicit reference to the events of the exodus. In both instances the nation as a whole is in view as God demonstrates his faithfulness to his people through their deliverance. Psalm 113, however, shifts from a national or corporate identity and narrows the scope to focus on the poor (dal), the needy (’ebyon), and the barren. Although such language could be applied to the nation as a whole, Psalm 113 seems bent on praising God for his “transformative interventions in the lives of the powerless.”9
The juxtaposition of transcendence and immanence could be not starker: the enthroned God on high is intervening in the individual lives of those relegated to the ash heap.
Contemporary Significance
PSALM 113 CALLS THE FAITHFUL to praise God, and through this call to praise the psalm constructs a picture of God—or more precisely, through the images and language in Psalm 113 a more robust theological vision of God emerges. This picture, or vision, is one that resonates across Scripture but does not always comport with contemporary constructions of God.
The Institute for the Study of Religion at Baylor University conducted a comprehensive study titled “American Piety in the 21st Century: New Insights to the Depth and Complexity of Religion in the United States.”10
Based on the participants’ responses to a series of questions, the researchers identified four “models” of God that seemed most prevalent in the United States. The first model is that of the Authoritarian God. Those who held to this model believed that God is highly involved in their daily lives and world affairs. They also tended to believe that God is quite angry and capable of meting out punishment. In the second model, the Benevolent God, individuals also believed that God was very active in their daily lives but is less angry and, instead, is a positive influence in the world. With the third model, the Critical God, individuals contended that God does not really interact with the world at all. While God may see the world and even have an unfavorable opinion of the world, any judgment or divine response will be meted out in the next life. In the last model, the Distant God, individuals contended that God is not active in the world but instead functions more as a “cosmic force which set the laws of nature in motion. As such, God does not ‘do’ things in the world and does not hold clear opinions about our activities or world events.”11
The four models or images of God that emerged from the study reflect considerable diversity of opinion about God and God’s way in and with the world. The first two models stress the nearness of God in human life, while the latter two models place emphasis on the distance of God. While these models reflect a commitment to the immanence and transcendence of God, each model emphasizes one element over the other.
Psalm 113, however, invites us to reflect on a God who seemingly defies any of these models. This psalm reminds us that a biblically grounded and theologically informed view of God asks us to hold both models in tension—the kind of tension that yields praise, not consternation. How do we not break out in unfettered praise when we consider that our God is enthroned on high as the Divine King? Yet how can we not be humbled deeply by a God who lifts people from the ash heap and creates life from barrenness? The capacity of this God, our God, to move from the highest realms of the heavens to the lowest rungs of earth is stunning. Perhaps that is why the early church forged another psalm, a confession that bore witness to a God who moved in such ways in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Although he became a slave (doulos), “obedient to death even death on a cross,”
God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the father. (Phil 2:9–11)
This God is to be praised “from the rising of the sun to the place where it sets” (Ps 113:3) and “in heaven and on earth and under the earth” (Phil 2:10). Although he reigns on high, he has come among us. Praise the Lord—hallelujah.
